


Long Game

by justlikeabaroness



Series: Folie à Deux [8]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Discussion of Human Trafficking, Discussion of Sexual Slavery, Forced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Refugees, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8102044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeabaroness/pseuds/justlikeabaroness
Summary: He does have to wonder, is it Wu Yifan that has the king of Gangnam-gu this spooked?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The North Korean ID card is largely unknown outside the country, so there are no photos or anything as to what it looks like and what information it contains. I've taken some artistic license here. North Korean women do not take their husbands' names.
> 
> A/N: The _gippeumjo_ or _kippeumjo_ (기쁨조) is a group of young women who are allegedly recruited to sexually service the North Korean leader and his cronies. They are paid well to do so, and married off after their exit from the 'corps.' Information is also scarce, so I've taken a little artistic license - but sadly, only a little.
> 
> A/N: 爱人 ("àirén") means 'loved one' or 'lover' in Mandarin.

It's been two days since Luhan walked out of their hotel room, and only just now is Minseok beginning to see any reason to move out of bed. That's probably not a good thing, he figures.

At this point, he's just tired. He's dressed, but that's all the energy he has. He's exhausted from running and planning and grieving and there are brief moments where he wishes he'd never fallen in love, but they're dwarfed by the sheer force of his rage and disbelief. He is all but positive that Luhan is dead now - because of course he'd fall for the noble one, and because if the roles were reversed and someone had blinded Luhan, he'd murder them without a thought - and he has not one single idea how he's going to live with that. If he was wrong ... well. He'd have been able to reach Lu's phone - he gets nothing, not even a dial tone. Chanyeol would have heard something. Hell, Jongdae would have brought it up on their phone call, with the winds from the Port of Incheon whipping through the background. He'd have found out he was wrong by now. 

But he's heard of the fallout from Jongdae, at least. The women - thirty or so women, rescued from a damn shipping container where they'd apparently spent almost ten days, with no food, nowhere to go to the bathroom, nothing. He set this in motion, Minseok knows. At least they'll be safe now. He wishes he felt better about that, and hates himself.

A knock at the door makes him twitch badly, cop's instinct and prey's instinct warring until he finally gets up. Unless it's Luhan, he isn't interested, and he's ready to send whoever it is packing. People are too tiring, too greedy and draining and oblivious. 

Still trying to relax after the shock, Minseok peers through the fisheye, and sees an average-sized man, with two days' worth of beard growth and dark hair, wearing an awkwardly fitting sweatshirt and nervously bouncing back and forth on his heels. He can't see the man's face very well, and he's about to ignore the knock when he accidentally jostles the rickety knob with his hand. It makes a loud enough noise for the man to bolt to attention, trying to look back through the fisheye and knocking again. Minseok hears a voice from his nightmares. "Kim Minseok. Open the fucking door; I need your help. I promise, I'm not even armed."

Minseok wants to hide. Not because he's necessarily so afraid of Byun Baekhyun, but because he's so tired of the machinations that have happened surrounding this man. Minseok saw evidence that something really bad was happening, spoke up, and this is what he gets for his trouble. 

And yet, Jongdae is handling the investigation into whatever fucked-up deal those two demons made. It'll be all right. He doesn't need to be here at this point. 

Fuck it. He opens the door. 

Byun looks shocked when the door actually swings open. He steps inside, but makes no move beyond closing the door. Minseok's actually sort of shocked to see that he looks like hell. He hasn't shaved, but it's more than that; he looks hunted. There's a twitchiness to his movements that isn't usually there, and he keeps fiddling with a ring on his fourth finger. 

Minseok is amused, but not impressed. "Make it quick." 

"I need your help." Byun says, looking up at him, but only for a minute before his eyes find the floor. "I know, I know. I'm crazy. Well, yeah, I'm crazy, and I've got nowhere else to turn. You can expose that motherfucker and maybe keep me out of jail."

Minseok is within his rights, he knows, to lunge at this man. And yet, that would take work. Effort. Byun Baekhyun doesn't deserve his efforts. "You have some balls," is all he says before turning away, heading back toward his bed. 

Of course, the man doesn't take no for an answer like a civilized human being. "Look. I know you hate me; I would in your situation. But this shit isn't what you think it is." Baekhyun comes over toward him, though he stops short of sitting down, just standing there fiddling with his hands. "This isn't what it looks like, and I can't touch the son of a bitch right now, because if I come near him he'll call the fucking cops!" His tone isn't lazy or angry, but Minseok hears the unintentional panicked crescendo in Baekhyun's voice, and he does have to wonder, is it Wu Yifan that has the king of Gangnam-gu this spooked? Or someone else? 

"I have no more ability to kill Wu Yifan than you do." In another world, he might allow a shred of sympathy to escape. 

"Not fucking Yifan. His mole. His double agent." Baekhyun spits. "Apparently you've been supplanted as the biggest fucking snake in the world, because you haven't turned in what you have to the prosecutor's office yet, and he's been consistently fucking me for months now!" 

"Mole?" Minseok's attention has been at least temporarily grabbed; the flame has a flicker of life in it yet. "Wu Yifan has a mole in your ranks?" He presumes by 'what you have' Baekhyun means the tape - does that mean Byun doesn't know the recorded conversations are circumstantial evidence at best? Or is there another piece of evidence showing that Byun Baekhyun is a treasonous, exploitative bastard that he's somehow missed? 

Baekhyun shrugs bitterly, and Minseok finds himself thinking that if Byun is playing this up for attention, he _is_ going to die with Minseok's switchblade buried in his neck. "He's either a mole, or I have some ambitious fuckers working for me. Because he's worked _hard_ to set me up as the fucking fall guy for this."

The obvious next question is to ask the guy's name, but Minseok wants more to the story. Damn it. He sighs, running a weak hand through his hair, jerking his head at Baekhyun, inviting him to sit on the chair or on the bed next to him. Baekhyun goes to sit on the other bed, though, and Minseok has to snap, " _Don't._ " He intends to sleep there tonight, and besides. Luhan doesn't like anyone on his bed. 

When Baekhyun is seated, he just starts talking, as if Minseok had asked him to. He's a little too manic, a little too animated. Minseok wonders if he's on drugs. 

Irrelevant for now. He speaks, looking over at the man with exhausted eyes. "Let's start at the beginning. Did you or did you not collaborate with Wu Yifan and some Northern general to smuggle women into this country?"

"You sound like a goddamn prosecutor." Baekhyun snarks, but he answers. "In the purest sense of the word, the answer is yes." 

"Then fuck you." Minseok snaps. 

"Hold the fuck on, goddammit!" Baekhyun grabs his arm, though he flinches visibly when Minseok jerks it away. "I wanted to smuggle them into the country to get them _out_ of theirs! And I never talked to any goddamn Northerner; I sent some of my guys to do that!"

"What ... ?" That sentence doesn't register in Minseok's head, at least not right away. To get them out of theirs ... "Wait. You were helping _defectors_?"

"Yes, _Detective_ , I fucking was!" Baekhyun's still angry, still shaky. "I was trying to get women and children out. That piece of shit Yifan said he knew how to do it, and I trusted him because, like a moron, I thought since I had eyes on the inside, I'd be protected." 

"Eyes on the inside? What do you mean?" 

"I sent a couple of my guys - my trusted guys - to shadow Wu Yifan, to spy, I guess. At one point recently, I asked one of them to go up to Yanbian and oversee the shipments of hard currency." Baekhyun says grimly. "He swore it never arrived. At the time I thought it was fucking Yifan trying to screw me, but then when I tried to track that and the actual shipping container with the women in it through the Port of Songbong, I got fucking lied to. And I think it's cause my guy flipped on me." 

"How do you know you were lied to?" 

"Because when I checked the goddamn cargo manifests for the ship the women were supposed to be on, there was no entry for our company. Long story short, shell company, fake cargo shipments like the Triads do, yadda yadda," Baekhyun says breezily, two fingers spiraling in the air, "but the specific code we agreed on wasn't listed. Instead of the code words on my manifest, they used the code your boy found on the manifests at Yangcheon-gu. Which I didn't fucking have. And this guy would have the chance to see those codes, as well as the possibility of knowing what they meant."

Minseok opens his mouth to reply, but his casual mention of Luhan cuts deep. He closes his eyes like he's been slapped, and tries to will himself back into professional mode. He would rather have his own eyes gouged out than cry in front of Byun Baekhyun; the man smells weakness, and no matter how low he seems to be right now, he'll remember it for later. 

He hopes it hasn't been too long when he asks his next question. "What does that mean, using those codes? That is. What does that signify in the grand scheme of things?" 

"That means I didn't think it was coming into Incheon this week." Baekhyun sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It means that I was planning to meet the cargo at Incheon in the next month or so, instead of waking up to reporters - including your boy Chanyeol, by the way, that asshole - banging on my door." 

It's plausible. That's the damnable, worrying, irritating thing. It's perfectly fucking plausible. And yet, he knows Byun Baekhyun well enough to wonder. If he gets hit for it or something, so be it. "Why are you doing this, though?" Minseok has to ask. "Why do you even care? You've got money to make." Sarcastic, maybe, but he can't help but feel contempt for the man. He still worked with a Chinese gangster who wants to wipe him and his so-called empire off the map. What he's done is still technically human trafficking, even if the motive was allegedly good, and he says as much. "It's still trafficking. It's still shutting women up in a shipping container for ten days."

"I didn't _want_ to. I had no choice."

Minseok fights not to roll his eyes. It's almost too stupid to be believed, and Byun Baekhyun is not stupid. "Bullshit."

Baekhyun opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it. "I thought you might be like that," he says instead of whatever first came to mind. He slowly reaches into his inner jacket pocket, as if to show he has no weapon. Instead of steel, he hands over a couple folded papers. Against his better judgment, Minseok takes the photocopies, opening them up and peering at the printouts. 

The first photocopy is of an old identification card, labeled "Democratic People's Republic of Korea," dated 1979, with a pretty woman's face on it. The handwriting is faded in the original; Minseok would guess it was done with a cheap pen, the ink trail drying at the end of every character. He traces each letter, reading the name. _Byun Myun Hee._ Age, 23. Family, Husband Ran Kyung Min, 29. 

The next photocopy is the same woman, with the same nose, the same mouth. Her face has aged, setting her eyes back further into her wide face, but it's not an undignified appearance. She's older, harder, but Minseok still sees an uneasily familiar spark in her expression. The name is typewritten now, on a South Korean identity card from 1998. _Byun Myun Hee._ Age, 42. Family, Son Byun Baek Hyun, 8.

"So your mom defected?" He finally asks, tone dispassionate. It still isn't proof that he's telling the truth, but at the same time, it looks real. Minseok has never seen a Northern ID card, but he knows a South Korean ID card when he sees one. The photocopy has captured the seal, as it should with a real one. 

"Yeah, but that's ..." Baekhyun visibly stops himself, collecting his thoughts. "Have you ever heard of the _kippeumjo_ , Detective?"

Oh, fuck. Minseok rises, needing to pace. "You're shitting me, Byun." 

"I shit you not. I wish I shat you." 

"Shut up." Joking about the _kippeumjo_ isn't funny. The word refers to an alleged group serving as the unofficial "pleasure brigade" of North Korea, where young women are recruited to 'serve' the leader in exactly the ways that one might think. But there is no hard proof, only stories. "There's no way to prove that." And yet, he wouldn't be surprised if it was true. Yet more damnable plausibility. Minseok growls. "It just can't be real."

For once, Baekhyun keeps his calm. "I know it's fucked. But it's real, Minseok." 

"Don't fucking use my name." 

"Detective, then. I mean, I can show you the picture of the blender my eomeoni got when they 'retired' her." Baekhyun says, shrugging. "My biological dad was a high-ranking officer - not like, Central Committee high, but high enough. He got my eomma as a fucking gift." 

Minseok rolls his eyes. "Don't. I respect that if this is true, it's hideous. But a cop has to have proof." 

"You're not really a cop anymore, despite your preference for the title." Baekhyun rolls his eyes right back. "Fuck off with that. If you don't believe me, that's fine, but I'd rather go to jail than fucking pimp out girls like a coward, and I think you know it, but you want to stick it to me. My mom's dead; she can't defend herself or me." 

Minseok doesn't answer right away. He isn't stupid; he knows what this might mean. If Byun Baekhyun's mother was part of the _kippeumjo_ , there is no way he's going to run sex workers. Ever. If he has a single fraction of a soul. But God, it burns to think about it. Everything had pointed to that answer - every piece of evidence has been designed to make Baekhyun look as guilty as possible. If it's a snow job, it's also been a snow job on him and Luhan. If Byun Baekhyun isn't importing sex workers, is there anything to do except admit that the man he loves is probably dead because he wasn't quick enough on the uptake to figure out what was really going on? 

He tastes bile in his throat. If not for himself, then for the man he loved ( _loves?_ ), he has to look into this. "What's the mole's name?" 

Baekhyun stops clenching his fists, stops seething visibly. "Junmyeon," he says. "I'm all but 100% convinced it's Kim Junmyeon. He's smart, and he's got an ax to grind - hell, you know him, sorta." He smiles in a fake-friendly way that gets Minseok's hackles up. "His boyfriend is the kid your boyfriend almost killed." 

Sudden rushes of anger and fear leave him dizzy for a moment, and it's all he can do to remain civil as he says, "Do _not_ talk about Luhan." 

"Whatever. I don't care." Baekhyun waves a hand irritably. "I sent him after you two, but then I started getting suspicious for a lot of reasons. I don't know if he's a spy, if he's working for the Chinese, or if he just wants to fuck me, and not in the fun way, but it's got to be him."

"No one else?"

Baekhyun shrugs. "Kyungsoo, maybe? But he isn't the one I've been using to contact Yifan." He gets up, as if to go, but stops. "I'll call off the dogs," he says. "By the way." 

That hasn't even occurred to Minseok. "Hm?"

"I'll call the boys off." Baekhyun shrugs. "You stole something from me, and you found out information about my big 'caper.'" He raises his hands in a jokingly shocked manner. "Neither of those things mean shit anymore. I don't need you eliminated, at least not right now." 

Minseok is sure that Baekhyun expects him to be grateful, but without Luhan, what's he got to look forward to, even if the heat comes off from Baekhyun's side? The SMPA will still probably rack him up on internal affairs charges. The Triads still want him dead.

And yet, if Lu is dead, it will have been by this Junmyeon's hands, probably. He just shrugs and repeats himself. "I'll dig up what I can." 

Baekhyun nods, not seeming to notice or care, but as he goes to sit back down, there is a pounding on the door. "Open the door! This is the police, Byun Baekhyun!"

Everything seems to happen in double time after that. "Can we not do this like civilized people?" Baekhyun calls in a deliberately careless, bored tone. But then he turns secretive, thrusting one more piece of paper into Minseok's hand, hissing, " _Go!_ " and turning toward the door. 

Minseok obeys with a quickness he's never used even when he was actually working for Baekhyun, making a beeline for the patio door and sliding it open as silently as possible. He hears the standard second warning as he's opening the door. "We _will_ break down the door if you do not come out with your hands in front of you!"

"Huh. Never been arrested before." Baekhyun notes, still sounding disinterested. "Get fucked." 

Minseok can't help a flare of irritation - does he have to be such a fucking drama queen? - but shoves it aside as he jumps out the patio door and walks - not too fast - down the road outside. His first priority is to get away, and he knows it. He'd paid cash for the room, but still, he'd like to ensure the cops don't hunt him down by some other means. As difficult as this life has gotten, he'd still like it to be his own, rather than being held in hock to the Supreme Prosecutor's Office. 

He stops on a street corner to glance at the paper Baekhyun shoved into his hand. There's a series of numbers on it, followed by one word - _Wonsan._ A password, maybe? Minseok knows it as a city in North Korea, but there has to be a reason for it being here. 

He does know what the numbers mean, though; apparently unbeknownst to Baekhyun, he managed to crack the code to the meeting room door at the club in Gangnam during his time 'working' there. "Meetings" in that room tend to involve blood, more often than not. But there are also vaults and records in there. He's reasonably sure that Baekhyun is directing him to the club, so he hails a taxicab and heads over. Thankfully, his wallet was in his pants pocket already when he'd left the hotel in a hurry. If anyone tries to stop him, he'll show them Baekhyun's papers, pull rank, and hope for the best.

When he arrives at the club, though, it's open, but quiet, given the relatively early hour. Minseok just hopes they haven't changed the code to the back door. Thankfully, it opens on the first try, and Minseok makes his way into the freight elevator without seeing anyone. He hits the up arrow, hoping the elevator in itself doesn't alert anyone. Or if it does, that they chalk it up to someone arriving for a shift. 

The door to the 'meeting room' is across the hall from the elevator, but Minseok doesn't just rush in; he stops and listens outside the door. If Wu Yifan or somebody with a gun is waiting for him in there, he's going to find a way to haunt Baekhyun from the grave. He does hear the slight rustling of paper, and once a muffled "Aish," as if someone cut themselves. It leaves him with an interesting conundrum. In theory, he could walk in like he owned the place - he does have permission to be here. But he's guessing that Baekhyun is no longer in a place where any of that can be verified. Still, it could be someone new, someone he can snow. 

Honestly, he can't afford to waste however much time waiting for whoever's in there to get the fuck out. Minseok inputs the code into the door's number panel, and hears it click open. He turns the knob and pushes the door.

The meeting room is blood-free, at least to the naked eye. A young man in glasses and an extremely expensive suit - Minseok might guess Zegna - is sitting at the table in the room, scribbling out notes on something or another. When he hears the door, he looks up, nonplussed. "Kim Minseok, aren't you?"

Minseok doesn't reply; he's learned that very often, if he stays silent, people will talk right past their questions. The other man does. "You've either spoken to Byun or killed him, and honestly, I don't care which. I just wanna keep my job, and if you're trying a hostile takeover, that's okay with me." 

Breathtakingly cynical, but potentially advantageous. "Who are you?" Minseok asks. This guy has to be somewhat high-ranking, if he's got the code for this room. 

"I'm Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo." He nods. Minseok remembers the name as one Baekhyun tossed off as a possible mole, but only at the last minute. "You are Kim Minseok; I know your face. I saw it enough when Byun wanted me to look into that assault you did with your ... partner? Boyfriend? Whatever. Where is he, anyway?"

There's no harm in telling this guy. It'll stop him asking in the future. "He's dead." 

"Hm. Another reason for you wanting to fuck Byun, I guess. I mean, I'm guessing one of our guys killed him as revenge or something." Minseok doesn't respond, can't respond ( _imagining the thick sounds of muscles and tissue being pulverized, imagining the light flickering out of those eyes_ ), but Kyungsoo keeps talking. "So what are you here to find? Numbers, names, shit to take to the Prosecutor's Office to help keep Byun in jail forever?"

He hasn't stated definitively why he's there, and Minseok wonders if this Kyungsoo has noticed. Still, he'll roll with it for now. "Info on this recent deal. With Pyongyang."

"Ah. Yeah." Kyungsoo's face shows disgust, but there's something flat about it. "Running girls is one thing, but dealing with those fuckers? That's low." 

"Those fuckers and Wu Yifan." Minseok doesn't have to fake contempt when he says the name. 

"I can tell you, Minseok- _ssi_ , even if you were still a cop - because let's face it, you're not, not after what you pulled - I'd still help you out on that one." Kyungsoo doesn't beat around the bush. "But that shit will probably be in the safe." 

"The safe?" Minseok echoes. "Where is that?"

"Byun's office, but it's connected through a passage here." Kyungsoo indicates the door behind him. 

Minseok does wonder why this Kyungsoo is being so helpful. It makes him look squirrelly. "Were you looking to take over or something?" He has to ask, even if it puts Kyungsoo on the alert. "I mean, you're giving up secrets, aren't you? Aren't you worried Byun will get off, if he gets charged with anything to begin with, and then come fuck you?" 

"Only if you tell him it was me who helped you." Kyungsoo smiles, "and you don't strike me as the type. Besides, he's getting charged. Dealing with Pyongyang's treason." 

He's got a point. Minseok just grunts noncommittally. He'll look into this Kyungsoo more when he can; for now he needs to see what the safe tells him, if anything. For now he just says, "Thanks. And don't worry about keeping this quiet. Tell whoever you want." If Kyungsoo's so inclined, he can call up Pyongyang and tell those assholes. Minseok's doing this for Lu. 

He walks into the passage, inputting the same number code into the lock and hoping it works, feeling rewarded when it does. The door swings wide, and Minseok can see the safe, nestled in a corner of Baekhyun's pompous office with a bonsai tree on top of it. It's hard not to roll his eyes. 

Going over to the safe, he sits in front of it, examining the lock. It's not a normal twist-to-numbers style; it looks almost like a codex out of _The DaVinci Code_ or some crap. There are six spaces for Western letters, and after he double-checks the number, he puts in the password one letter by one. W - O - N - S - A - N. 

There's a click, and the door swings open, creaking just slightly, as if Minseok's in a goddamn Indiana Jones movie. He shakes his head at just what an asshat this man is, and starts going through the record book he sees on the top shelf. It's a ledger of accounts.

He's only about three pages into a detailed report of money laundering through the clubs in Gangnam and Yongsan - half, by the way, going to a person or business code-named only with the Chinese character _dōu_ , with the notation "Don't discriminate - anyone female!" - when he's forced to face an unpleasant truth, and it hits him hard. This has to be legitimate - Baekhyun has to be telling the truth, at least about the refugee angle. The information he's reading right now could send Baekhyun to jail for decades, even if refugees or sex workers weren't in the picture at all. And if Baekhyun were lying about the whole thing, he'd never have put this much detail into it. Even if every paper in this safe is fake, it's enough to have the SMPA all over his finances, and Baekhyun simply isn't stupid enough to invite that unless he has no other choice. Minseok has to also admit that no one looking for sex workers would insist on 'anyone female' - the prettier, the better.

No, it has to be that Baekhyun is telling the truth. And yet, Minseok keeps reading, keeps learning about illegal and unethical actions - embezzlement, gambling, drug running - but only finds more evidence, including regular payments to this "Dōu" - no reason or heading marked, just regular payments of a couple million won each, for the last few months. Baekhyun had thought that this Junmyeon had been the mole - maybe he's made some expensive buys lately? How's he paying for the stuff his blind boyfriend needs now? Does this Junmyeon speak Chinese? Either way, there's no proof Baekhyun is lying, and there's a lot of circumstantial evidence that he's telling the truth.

Minseok sighs. Byun Baekhyun is a criminal, but apparently not a monster.

_Lu, àirén, it didn't have to happen this way._

He wants to cry. It would be easier. It might help get rid of the gut-wrenching anger and choking grief that makes him want to just destroy the room, the building, the city. It's his fault. If he'd been sharper, quicker on the Goddamn uptake - if he'd done more research, if he'd followed Baekhyun or gotten access to this safe -

He grabs his phone, dialing a familiar number, wanting a fresh set of eyes, but also wanting a friendly ear, someone who won't judge him. Thankfully, Chanyeol picks up on the second ring. "Minseok?"

"Can I see you?" Minseok manages. "Are you home?"

"Yeah. For another two hours or so. Are you okay? Did something happen?" Chanyeol sounds not only worried, but a little confused. "I saw the paper - Byun's actually in prison. At least for the next little while. No bail."

Part of him wonders just how close his escape was, but most of him needs to get out of here. "Byun might be innocent. At least of the sex worker thing. I found his ledger." 

"What? Are you crazy?"

Minseok hangs up, ignoring the question. He rises, closing the safe door after grabbing the record book, walking out of the office by its front door. Chanyeol knows things. He can shed some light on this insane quest. If he can't, well, Minseok might finally give up. It's overdue. The switchblade they stole from Baekhyun is gone, but he still has his own. It should be sharp enough. 

His friend lives close, less than ten minutes by cab, and soon Minseok's ringing Chanyeol's doorbell, not caring that he's out in broad daylight in a district swarming with police. He barely notices being taken inside and handed a mug of something hot, tuning back in only when Chanyeol raises his voice. "Minseok! You're freaking me out." 

"Hm?" 

"You're scaring me." Chanyeol repeats, sitting down on the couch next to Minseok. "Did you get bad news? Lu Han?"

Hearing that name instantly makes Minseok tear up, but he'd rather die than cry right now; he doesn't get to cry over Luhan's nobility when he's been so _stupid._ It's not appropriate. He simply says, quietly, with as little feeling as he can, "I was wrong ..."

Chanyeol doesn't say anything, just waiting, and eventually, Minseok tells him everything. All the details he didn't know already - everything Baekhyun told him, the suspicions, the evidence, the conclusions. He tells him Baekhyun's suspicions of his friend Junmyeon, of this Kyungsoo, of his promise to call off the dogs. He talks until he's quivering and small, head lying back on the couch, exhaustion nipping at the heels of his overheated brain. He's actually grateful for the fact that Chanyeol doesn't say anything for a while afterward. Minseok feels marginally better to have spoken, just to vomit all the agony and poison out into the air, but it doesn't actually do anything to make it go away. He doesn't need platitudes or sympathy; he needs help. Results. And maybe a time machine. 

Eventually, though, Chanyeol does speak up. "Jesus, Minseok." He shakes his head, reaching across his messy workspace to pick up his phone. "What you're telling me makes sense - it does, damn it. Byun Baekhyun isn't evil, just has shitty judgment where family stuff is concerned. Eugh." He makes a face, and Minseok understands - he doesn't like the idea of this Machiavellian charmer being such an idiot; it messes with his worldview. "But you're telling me it wasn't the Chinese who tried to fuck him with it?"

"Has to be. Who else wants to fuck Byun that badly?" Minseok manages with a weak smile.

"The cops." Chanyeol says. 

"Yeah, but _I_ was supposed to be the one who found a way to fuck him legally." 

"What if legal isn't on the table anymore?" Chanyeol asks. "I know the SMPA has tried to get dirt on Wu Yifan any way they can, because they figure the Supreme Prosecutor's office will back them up." 

Minseok has to stop and think. _That's_ an ugly idea that he doesn't even want to contemplate. "I don't know," he says, eyes closing. "It doesn't really matter. Either way, they're trying to take him out of the picture. And they might be using your friend Junmyeon to do it."

"Junmyeon wouldn't work with cops," Chanyeol says immediately. "And I can't imagine he'd work with the Chinese. I really can't. But, I have to admit it's not impossible." It clearly pains Chanyeol to say it, but Minseok isn't really interested in rationalizations. "I didn't think he'd raise a hand to your Luhan. But I guess he did." 

"Yeah." Minseok swallows down a burning in his throat. 

Chanyeol ticks off points on his fingers. "So. Byun wasn't smuggling sex workers; he was smuggling refugees. Or he thought he was, having been lied to by his guy or the Chinese or both or whatever. It's reasonable to think that there might be a mole among Byun's guys, and Byun thought it was Junmyeon. The cops and the Chinese both want to see Baekhyun either behind bars or at least out of the game in Seoul."

"Yeah." 

"He does know there's still probably a treason charge in it for him unless he can show he never actually contacted Pyongyang, right?" Chanyeol asks, to which Minseok simply shrugs. He doesn't know, and at this point, he doesn't give a fuck. Not his jurisdiction. "Well, whatever. I know how to at least get more information." 

"How?"

"Call Junmyeon." Chanyeol starts to do just that. 

"You're talking to the fucker." Minseok feels the venom in his chest, and he wonders if Chanyeol will get mad if he murders this pig. 

"Fine." But Chanyeol puts it on speaker, and Minseok grabs a sofa pillow, so he can take out his homicidal impulses on that. 

The man picks up. "Hello?"

"Hi. It's Chanyeol."

Minseok's heart sinks as he hears Junmyeon laugh derisively. "Long time no talk. Let me guess, you need something." 

"Information." Chanyeol's not fucking around, which Minseok appreciates.

"Chanyeol, when I needed information, you left me a shitty message saying that you didn't want me in your newsroom. Why the fuck should I help you now?"

Chanyeol sighs audibly, and it's all Minseok can do not to threaten this self-righteous little squirrel. "Junmyeon, if it's the call I'm thinking of, I was hobnobbing with corrupt MPs at the time, and I needed to not be surrounded by kkangpaes and their informants. Your creepy friend told me what you needed, and I told you who to talk to. What more did you want?" 

Junmyeon sounds ready to argue more, but he stops. "Huh, so it was Kyungsoo who called you? I should thank him." 

"Yeah, he said his name was Kyungsoo." Chanyeol looks confused, but presses on. "Junmyeon, this is important for you, okay? Byun is in prison and he thinks you're the one who helped put him there." 

There's a silence on the other end that Minseok can only describe as thunderstruck. He knows that feeling of disgust, of anger and betrayal at the same time. Or at least, he knows that's what he would feel. If this motherfucker is the mole, he'll only feel relief. 

Eventually, though, it's broken quietly. "What did you say?" 

"Byun talked to someone before they arrested him. He said that someone doctored the refugee smuggling deal to make it look like he was trafficking sex workers. And since you went to Yanbian to get the hard currency for the shipment, he thinks you flipped on him." Not 100 percent accurate, Minseok mentally adds, but close enough to get a rise out of the guy.

And get a rise it does. "That's bullshit!" Junmyeon explodes, a slamming sound heard from his end of the phone. "Fucking bullshit! The shipment never got to me in Yanbian; I wouldn't have the damn money to flip on him!"

"Then where is it?"

"How the shit should I know?" Junmyeon's still raging. "Byun said go to Yanbian and wait for a shipment. I went to our usual drop, waited, and after about four hours I got word that there'd been a delay. Never saw a single fucking won." 

"You got word there'd been a delay?" Chanyeol echoes. "Is that normal?"

"Yeah, though normally I get a text, not a paper note." 

"Easy method to get you out of the way." Minseok speaks up, despite his revulsion at talking to this man. "If you're telling the truth."

"Who's there?" Junmyeon asks, distinguishing the voices. "Park Chanyeol, do you have a cop or someone there?"

"No. Minseok is here." Minseok opens his mouth to protest, but lets it go. What's going to happen, this bastard will try to kill him too? He'll either let him, or he'll break the fucker's neck. 

Contrary to what Minseok expects, Junmyeon just sniffs. "Well, at least you didn't lie, he isn't a cop anymore. You owe me, you know," he says, directly to Minseok. "There were ... extenuating circumstances, so I didn't kill your boyfriend, but I could have. Thank me, you fucking thug." 

The moment that Junmyeon's first sentence completes, though, Minseok stops listening. "Where is he?" He all but grabs the phone from Chanyeol, not giving a shit about tearing up now, voice thickening. "Where is Lu Han, you fuck."

"Go fuck yourself! You two almost killed the person I love, you can search every hospital in Seoul for all I care." 

" _Hey._ " Chanyeol snaps like an irritated primary school teacher. "Junmyeon. We're trying to fucking help you. If Byun thinks you screwed him, you know he'll try to kill you. You won't be much good to Sehun if you're dead." 

Minseok's brain is still buzzing, still leaping with the joy of hope regained. "Do you know anything about Byun's ledgers?" he breaks in, tone intent. "Like, how to identify people or payments? Chinese characters?"

"He uses 'em to refer to people, not things, I know that." Junmyeon replies, surprised into replying by the sudden tone shift. "Like, mine is jùn, since it's one of the Hanja in my name. He'll write place names in Hangul." 

"So if there's a payment to a character in his ledger, it's one specific person, right?"

"Yeah. If two people have the same name, he uses the second character in their name or the character for their last name or something. Like, Jongin and I have the same last name, so his character is zhōng, the first one in his given name." 

"So whose character is dōu?" Chanyeol asks. "Because whoever it is, they got about half the club revenue for something like four months, and it was earmarked to pick 'anyone female.'"

Junmyeon seems to start in shock. "Half the ... fuck, that's a lot of money. Millions of won, if not billions. I don't even think smuggling women out of Chongjin or Sonbong-Unggi would cost that much. If someone's getting that much, they'd have a lot left over." 

"Isn't that embezzlement?" Chanyeol asks.

"How the fuck should I know? I just know it's not his money."

"Fair." Chanyeol moves on. "But the point is, whoever the mole is, they're sitting on some extra money." 

"A shitload of money. Great motivator to play both sides. And the only person I know with 'dōu' in their name is Kyungsoo." 

"Do Kyungsoo." Minseok repeats, brain kicking into overdrive. The helpful little squirrel at the club. The one who knows that Minseok is on his track and has found Baekhyun's ledgers. "I just met him at Baekhyun's club." 

"He's back?" Junmyeon sounds surprised again. "He wasn't supposed to be back for another week or so. Said he was going to Vladivostok, something about importing vodka." 

"He was in the meeting room," Minseok says. "Wearing an expensive suit." 

As the realization sinks in, Junmyeon says quietly, "Gangnam Sacred Heart. Probably listed as Hong Gildong, since I don't think he had ID." 

Hong Gildong is the placeholder name used on forms. It's all Minseok can do not to bolt over there right now. "Thank you." 

"Be safe, Junmyeon," Chanyeol says. "If Kyungsoo knows something's up, he might - "

"No. I don't think so. But I'll be ready if he does." Junmyeon sighs. 

"We didn't speak about you." Minseok feels compelled to add. "If he's coming for anyone, he'll be coming for me." 

"Well, fucking kill him so this can end." Junmyeon hangs up the phone. 

Minseok's on his feet in the same instant. Lu, his Lu, he needs to go _now_. Chanyeol gets up at the same instant, looking for shoes and grabbing a pocket knife without comment. 

The ride to Gangnam Sacred Heart Hospital is short, but not short enough. Minseok can't stop shaking, can't stop wringing his hands, not only because he's excited and relieved, but also because he's worried. If this Kyungsoo knows Minseok is coming for him - if he knows enough about Minseok to recognize him - 

Once they arrive, it's a near-sprint to the front desk, a politely pained inquiry, and the world's most agonizing elevator ride to the sixth floor. Minseok thanks every god that visiting hours are long here; that way he can avoid having to bring out badges and press cards and demanding things that might attract attention. Part of him just wants to steal Luhan and get away, fly somewhere they won't be found, but the rest of him knows it's impossible. He knows this has to be finished. 

Arriving on the sixth floor, Minseok starts to walk, but it morphs into a loping jog, then a run as the room numbers get higher - Chanyeol has long legs, he figures; he can keep up. 696 is the second to last in a long hallway, and Minseok doesn't stop to knock, barreling through the door. "Lu!"

What he sees, however, is nightmare fuel. Nothing in the room has been disturbed or disarranged, but there is blood everywhere, from the wall to the hanging instruments to the bed and downward. Minseok's eyes widen and he feels himself go pale. 

Chanyeol bumps into him in the doorway, and Minseok hears his friend's sharp inhale. "Jesus Christ." 

"Don't." Minseok holds up a hand, getting out his knife. "Don't move." It's Minseok's job, on multiple levels, to face this. 

As he edges into the room, he starts to notice the blood trailing in a specific direction. He's not a splatter analyst, but it doesn't take a genius to tell that whoever caused the wound stabbed or shot upward, with bloody tentacles crawling _up_ the wall, rather than down, at least originally. Gravity happens. 

Minseok follows the pattern down to the bed, then jumps hard when a weak moan hits his ears, swearing in Chinese. He cranes his neck over the side of the hospital bed, and sees the last person he ever imagined: a bleeding Wu Yifan, pupils asymmetrical, glasses crushed. There is a hunting knife buried up to its hilt, sticking out of the mangled cloth that had once covered his heart. The blood is pumping even now, and Minseok knows that every breath is probably agony, if there are any left.

As he gets closer, he can see the faint rise and fall; Yifan is still alive, but Minseok has seen enough dead men to know time is of the essence. "Get a doctor," he demands, and Chanyeol takes off without quibbling at his tone. Minseok kneels down, grabbing Yifan's chin gently, forcing him to look up. In Mandarin, he asks, "Who did this to you?" 

It's always touch and go as to whether a dying man's brain will function well enough to be useful, but Yifan seems to grasp what's going on. "Kyun - Kyungsoo," he forces out, seemingly confused as to who or where he's talking. In Mandarin, he says, "Detective ..." but trails off, and when Minseok gives him a shake once more, he switches to Korean. "Go to Mapo," he says clearly, squinting as if he can't see Minseok. "Yeonnam." 

"Yeonnam-dong?" Minseok echoes, wanting to be sure, _having_ to be sure. 

" _Shì._ " Yifan agrees, but then lapses into mumbling in Mandarin, eyes fluttering closed. Minseok dimly hears yelling as he gazes at this bastard of a man, and silently prays that if he dies, he dies screaming.

He's up in half a second, out the door in a second more. He knows where Jongdae keeps his service revolver. This ends now.


End file.
